Coadunate
by Generouslyinnercheesecake
Summary: Years after they first met, Jon and Damian experience the trials of growing up when you don’t know how. Also, when you have a crush on your best friend. Still. /continuation of Hubun, Damian Wayne with aspergers./
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: All public characters, settings, etc. are not mine and are property of DC comics. I am not making money off of this work. All my original characters/plot are property of me, the author, and I am not associated with DC comics in any way, shape or form. /

A/N: Hello, my lovelies!! I'm back from my depressive episode and am ready to kick ass!!! Anyway,please at least read Hubun in order to understand this story. Very important. I would also like to say this story is more about growing up rather than the relationships. Don't get me wrong, JonDami is still going to happen, but if you look at the nuances it's honestly more about coming of age. I'm so happy to be back with writing. I feel so happy with the great feedback from the previous parts in the series, so please...enjoy!!

WARNING: this story uses curse words, and also references to sexual activity. If those things offend you, thank you for checking it out but this story is not for you. Mental health is more important than a fanfiction.

———

Jon Kent was a boy of few responsibilities. At least, he thought so. He went to school, did his homework, worked on the farm some days, and (when his parents allowed it) went on missions with his partner of over four years. Some would describe the boy as a sunshine child, however others would describe him as a disobedient one.

As Jon woke up at the crack of dawn, the glittering sunlight leaking through his curtains in his room on the farm, he felt a sense of familiarity and warmth spread throughout his entire form.

Until he remembered school.

Jon sighed, then dragged himself out of bed, his Superman pajamas loose on his lithe body. However, despite his thin frame he was still taller than Damian. Barely, but still. Jon walked to the bathroom, doing his morning routine then going back to his bedroom to change into his school clothes, consisting of a pair of worn out jeans, a t-shirt, a heavy jacket, and tennis shoes. He ruffed up his hair before rushing downstairs to have breakfast with his parents. Lois was sitting at the wooden dining table, carefully reading the paper, while Clark was cooking a copious amount of eggs and bacon for his family.

Jon, just before he sat down on the chair across from his mother, greeted his parents. "'Mornin', Mom and Dad!"

Lois put down the paper and leaned into her son across the table, picking up her cup of joe in the process. "'Morning, Jon. How'd ya' sleep?" She asked tiredly. Jon could tell from the dark circles under his mother's eyes that she didn't sleep very well. Most likely worked on an article the entire night.

Jon smiled, a simple quirk of the lips, and replied, "Good, Mom. Dreaming of saving the world."

Clark chuckled as he moved the two pans onto the table, making sure to put the mats under them as to not damage the table even more. Jon looked down at the food, up to his father, then murmured a thanks. Clark put a heavy hand on his shoulder, then sat down next to his wife.

Jon could tell his mother put a hand on his father's thigh under the table, but said nothing. They were always like this, and Jon guessed it was a way adults showed their...affection.

Breakfast passed in a blur, Lois and Clark gulping down their coffees before they both left for work in Metropolis. Jon put the dirty plates in the sink, making sure to at least rid them of crumbs, and ran upstairs to grab his brightly colored backpack.

Jon stood at the front door, not quite outside yet, and turned around to face the empty house which was vacant of his family. At times like this, the house felt impersonal and detached without his mom and dad. Yet the family photos were still there, as were the remnants of their breakfast, and Jon couldn't help but smile. He left in a blur.

* * *

Sadie Hawkins was coming up in a few days, he had realized halfway through the school day.

"Oh Rao," Jon muttered tiredly to himself, sounding too much like his father. Before school dance, so many boys and girls were pressured to ask out their long-time crushes. And Jon didn't like that. Because his crush doesn't even go to his school.

Plus, Sadie Hawkins was an absolute scam! What if you were a boy who wanted to ask out another boy? Hm? "Scam, I tell you," Jon muttered angrily to himself as he stared at a poster promoting the stupid school dance.

"What's a scam?" A girl—Valerie, if he recalled correctly—asked him. Her black, sleek hair was tucked behind her olive-toned ears, displaying a ridiculous amount of makeup that proved she had so obviously attempted to make her Asian eyes not seem to thin. That's a scam, Jon thought. Why would someone want to change who they are?

Jon blinked quickly and shook his head, as if to rid himself of those thoughts. "Sadie Hawkins," he answered shortly.

Valerie nodded along wisely, as if she knew exactly what he was talking about. "Yeah," she said, shrugging her shoulder, "it seems like a scam to me, too."

Jon lips quirked upward, and she smiled back at him, their eye contact unwavering. "Do you wanna go together?" Valerie blurted out, and Jon's eyes widened. "I mean..." she stuttered through her explanation, grabbing a piece of her own hair nervously. "Since we both agree that it's kinda stupid." Jon stared at her blankly, which made Valerie drop her shoulders and sigh loudly.

"Look, Jon," she stated, surprising the boy. "I want to go with my friends, but they won't let me in if it's just me," she explained. Jon nodded slowly, still processing that someone wanted to go with him. His mind drifted to Damian, but he shook his head again, not wanting to remember him in these moments. When he's about to get asked out by a girl. "Plus," she said, pulling Jon out of his own head, "maybe we could have fun. The two of us." Her tone held something that he couldn't quite identify, so he nodded along with a hesitant smile.

"Sounds good, Val," he replied lamely. The young woman gave him a warm smile, then left in a hurry to get to her next class. Jon's face fell when the implications of going out with her hit him, and he felt more disappointed in himself than he has in months.

* * *

Jon told Damian to meet up with him in their own base, and Damian could tell by what Jon was saying that he was adamant that they meet tonight. Damian's heart beat faster, and he felt some breath leave his lungs suddenly.

He rushed to the base, only barely managing to tell his father. When stopped by Bruce's hand to ask what was going on, Damian shoved it off his shoulder and ran to his bike.

Bruce sighed as he saw his son leaving the cave in a hurry, wondering how much time had truly passed since he first got Damian.

* * *

Jon heard the bike rolling into their base, dread filling his stomach. Why did he call Damian, again?

Damian stopped smoothly, as to not make any horrendous noises, and meticulously placed his helmet on the handle of his bike, checking twice that he kicked down the kickstand. Jon waited with a bouncing leg, his posture radiating anxiety.

Damian, when he saw the perfectly fine state of Jon, furrowed his brows and asked, "What, Jonathan?"

Jon jumped a bit. "Um," he stuttered and Damian looks really mad and obviously worried why'd I invite him over just to tell him-

"Kent," Damian growled. Jon's chest filled with worry all over again.

"Okay," the boy breathed out, attempting to take control of what little breathing he had experienced in the past minute. "So there's this school dance we have every year. Only the ninth graders can go because they're the eldest in the school and..." Jon hesitated, avoiding eye contact with Damian.

Damian frowned, a pout beginning to form on his face. Jon lifted his eyes to meet Damian's, and they both turned their head to avoid the eye contact. "A girl asked me out," Jon finally admitted, a heavy breath leaving his body. Relief spread through his body as he finally admitted to a good friend what had been bothering him.

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Is it not a norm for men to ask out the women?" He demanded.

Jon bit his lip. "Yeah," he muttered, "usually. But Sadie Hawkins is different. That's when the girls ask out the boys."

Damian stilled, the furrowed brows still etched onto his countenance. "American schools are stupid," he stated, and Jon sighed in agreement.

"Yah. They are, Dami."

Damian frowned further. "What if you were homosexual? Or not attracted to people?"

Jon, suddenly tired, shook his head sadly. However, his eyes snapped up to meet Damian's when the older boy said, "You shall not go."

Jon tilted his head, confused. "Why, Dami?"

"I do not know this girl's name," he answered as he broke the eye contact, as if that were a proper explanation. At Jon's lack of reply, Damian growled under his breath and involuntarily grabbed his silicon necklace, and continued, "She does not deserve you if I do not know her."

Jon's cheeks heated up, the words making him feel butterflies in his stomach. Until his partner's first declaration hit him yet again. "She wants to be with her friends, Dami. She can't go in if a boy doesn't go with her." At Damian's stubborn scowl, Jon continued. "I know nothing besides friendship will happen with her, Dames. She just wants me as company. Nothing else."

Damian huffed, pulling his arms into his chest where the necklace was circled around his neck, fiddling with the disc. Before Jon could say anything else, Damian swept out of the room, carefully placing the helmet over his head and kicking up the kickstand before the tires rolled away in a hurry.

What did I do wrong? Jon asked himself, his mind searching for a solution already.

* * *

Damian hurriedly drove away from his and Superboy's base, his head pounding painfully and shoulders tense beyond what they normally were. Damian, as he was passing a warehouse on 35th, heard the sound of gunshots, and was suddenly determined to ignore his own pain in that moment.

Damian lifted the helmet from his head, then kicked down the kickstand. After carefully placing the helmet onto the same handle, he plugged the almost imperceptible earplugs into the proper place and ran into the fray.

His fighting style was graceful by the influence of his mother, a controlled ruthlessness with the training from his father, but perfected in a way determined by himself. Just as he did a kick to knock out the last henchman, he felt more shots hit the ground around his feet.

Damian shifted to the upstairs, where at least six men were standing at the metal railing, AKs and glocks in their jumping fingers. "Get the little brat!" Damian read from their lips, and he rolled to his side to evade the bullets. He sprinted to a space under the railings, and climbed his way up from there. The men, with their weapons still drawn, immediately began shooting as Robin reached their level.

Robin used his cape to block the bullets, then rolled towards the men, feeling the bullets ricocheting off the metal railings. He quickly disarmed two of the six men, using the pressure points to knock them out quickly. It was not very skilled, which he greatly disliked, but was also aware that he needed all of them out fast.

It was not before long that all six men were on the floor, either groaning painfully or refusing to make any noise at all. Robin grabbed the collar of a conscious henchman, demanding, "Why did you begin shooting? Who is behind the operation?"

The henchman's face stretched into a sadistic smile, the blood covering his teeth making him hard to look at with the average eye. But Damian's learned to look anywhere at the blood, instead focusing on the man's crooked nose.

Damian huffed when there was no response, then hit the henchman's head onto the metal. Damian felt the metal vibrate. The henchman groaned painfully, then muttered out, "Oh what the hell. I'm getting beaten up by a fuckin' kid." Robin narrowed his eyes, but the henchman didn't seem to deterred by that. He continued, "He's on 30th and Dahlia. He's probably high off his fuckin mind."

Robin's jaw clenched. "That does not explain-"

"Look, kid," Damian growled under his breath, "he sent us to kill some competing ring." Damian furrowed his brows, curiosity sinking in. The henchman's face morphed into something more tense, his eyes wide and lips pursed as though he regretted what he had just said.

Ring could mean a few different scenarios to Damian. All of them being cruel and inhumane. "Ring?"

The henchman gulped, his fear beginning to kick in as the adrenaline died down. "I can't tell you that, kid. I promised the boss I wouldn't say anything. A contract n' everything."

Damian scowled, dropping the man by his feet and kicking him in a half attempt of justice. "And yet you have told me enough." Damian let out his grappling hook and landed onto the first floor.

He walked to the door in which he had entered, turned around, then announced to the entire warehouse, "Goodbye, scum of the earth."

He left for 30th and Dahlia.

———-

Did you like?

Criticism is ALWAYS appreciated if I portrayed something wrong. I'm always willing to be educated. Thank you for reading!! The next chapter should be out soon! All love!!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello my lovelies!! I'm back with another chapter!! Just to let ya'll know, I have all the chapters written I just need to edit them all. It may be within a week that I could finish this story. Thank you all so much for being supportive and reading!! I've really enjoyed writing this. Now, onto the story!!

WARNING: cursing and talks of sex (SFW). Also features predatory behavior.

——-

Damian kicked up the kickstand, placing the helmet over his head and starting up the bike before he left for 30th and Dahlia, the earplugs still in his ears. He had forgotten to take them out, but when he felt them in his ears as the Gotham land passed in a blur, he didn't care much.

However, he did care when he heard a familiar click and a deep bass say into his ear, "Robin. Come to the cave."

Damian scoffed, and he could feel his father's bland stare through the comm.. Damian liked that, when angry, his father used the same three looks in order to convey it. And there was no doubt that Bruce really was mad, evidenced by the need to call Damian at all.

"Why did you run off, Robin?" He heard Bruce ask, and wanted him to shut up in order to actually concentrate on what he was doing.

Damian bit the inside to his cheek, then yelled, "Shut up, Father!"

"_Robin_-"

"I need to concentrate," Damian stated, then tapped the earplug twice, shutting communications off. He knew he was going to get a tongue lashing when he arrived back at the cave, but did not care much. He needed to concentrate.

It was a few more seconds until he arrived at the corner, looking around for any secret doorways or trapdoors. However, he saw in the corner of his eyes a creeping form, inching toward him in its own perversion. Damian stilled, then, as a lion would with their prey, lunged towards the man, silent and deadly.

The man chuckled, the sound slurred and haunting, before he ducked. Robin's fists clenched, and he flicked a birdarang in the man's thigh so he could no longer walk. The man moaned, then limped toward the hero. Robin took a step back, a dreadful feeling spreading throughout his body purely out of what he thought was instinct.

"Who are you?" Damian demanded of the man.

The man gripped the birdarang and pulled it out of his thigh, the visual making Damian want to vomit. "I am looking for a few good kids," he replied, and he seemed happy with his own answer. "To take care of," the man added.

Damian tensed up, continuing to naw at the inside of his cheek. "Give me your name."

"What is _your_ name, kiddo?"

Before Damian could blink, the man began charging at him with the weapon aimed straight for Robin's shoulder. Robin swiftly moved to the side, his training finally kicking in.

"Robin?" He suddenly heard Grayson's tenor voice in his ear, and huffed impatiently. "Please come back," the man pleaded, and Damian suddenly wanted to hit something. Preferably, this absolutely disgusting excuse for a man.

Damian yelled into the comm., "I need to finish with this incessant man, Nightwing!" Then he kicked the bloody birdarang out of the man's shaking hand, picking it up off the floor and flicking it into the man's other thigh.

"Do you need help?"

"No!"

He heard Grayson groan frustratedly over the comm., but couldn't care even if he tried. He need to knock this man out in order to find some evidence to lock him up.

Suddenly, Damian felt the stinging feeling of metal piercing through his skin. His whole body tensed, though he knew that was not efficient with his current predicament. Still, he continued on and knocked the man off his balance. The man stumbled into some cardboard boxes, and Damian was glad he could not hear the sound when he crashed into them. It seemed as though they also had styrofoam in them.

Robin looked down at the rusted metal pole stabbing into his thigh, and felt the horrible taste of vomit forcing its way up his esophagus. It was not even touching bone, but there was so much blood. Too much. Before he could stop himself, he was hunched over throwing up his lunch.

"Robin?" He heard Grayson's distressed call over the comm.. Damian moaned pathetically, then straightened out his back, determined to finish the man and not be so pitiful.

"Robin!" He heard Grayson repeat. "I'm coming over now."

Damian growled outwardly, then grabbed the blazer of the man to lift him out of stupor and press him roughly against the alley wall. Robin glared at the man. "What is your name?" He yelled into the man's face.

"Tony," the man answered breathlessly.

Damian felt disgust fill his system, but tried to ignore it. "Last?"

"Rodriguez," the man said, then continued, "Yours, Prettybird?"

Damian punched the man in the eye unashamedly. Tony's temple smashed into the brick, causing blood to sprout from the new wound. Damian ignored it, and instead pinned the man by the neck. Tony began choking on his own spit, his face still sporting an arrogant, drunken smirk.

"Feisty one, huh?" Damian slapped the man across his face, the distinct sound echoing throughout the alleyway. "We'll find a way to make you submit," Tony continued.

Before Damian could cause anymore harm, however, the boy felt Dick's shining presence beside him. "Nightwing," Robin regarded with an inpatient growl. The pervert's eyes widened temporarily, then the smirk was back on his face.

Nightwing stared at the man pinned to the wall, then, without hesitation, pressed onto a pressure point and made the man slump against the brick wall. After seeing the man was fully passed out, he finally turned to his brother.

"What happened?" He asked, and Damian was hit in the face that Dick was concerned. Genuinely, as shown by the usual body language.

Damian stared at the unconscious man. "He was high. Cocaine, most likely, as per the white powder still left on his palm-"

"Damian."

"No names."

"What did he do to you?"

Damian faltered, then covered up his fault with his usual glare directed at his brother. "He simply called me degrading names. I do not understand how that is pertinent-"

"Fucking-"

"To the investigation. I had encountered a warehouse firing shots, but when the henchmen were interrogated they confessed to someone on 30th and Dahlia running a ring. They warned he would be intoxicat-"

Dick ran his gloved hands through his hair, stress radiating off his being. "Damian-"

"Names."

"You can't trust every tip you get. Some people shoot when they want to shoot."

Damian paused, taking the earplugs out in the meantime. "He seemed trustworthy. I had intimidated him enough that he would confess honestly."

Dick put a heavy hand on Damian's shoulder. "Not everything-" Dick stopped himself, then let out a long sigh. "Did you get his name?"

Damian's brows furrowed. "Not the henchman," Dick closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again when Damian finally told him, "Tony Rodriguez is the name of this scum." Dick couldn't help but chuckle. Damian continued, "He informed me that I would be a good asset to...get help from him. He also asked for my name repeatedly."

Dick's eyebrows raised in alarm. "You didn't tell him, right?"

Damian scoffed. "I may not be mentally normal, but I am not stupid."

Dick smiled boyishly, looking down at his feet. It was a couple seconds later that he noticed the metal pole in his brother's thigh. "Robin!" He gasped, then picked up the young man bridal style. "What the hell happened?!"

"I was being stupid," Damian admitted, looking somewhat embarrassed. He added, "In that moment. Let me go." Dick ignored his order.

Nightwing sighed. "He did this to you? Rodriguez?"

Damian nodded as he was being carried to Nightwing's bike. When he noticed he wouldn't be riding his own bike, he protested, "Grayson! My-"

"We can always summon it to the cave when we get back," Dick interrupted, not even bothering to correct his baby brother on the use of his civilian name. "What matters most is you," Dick stated.

Damian's brows furrowed, partly confused and partly frustrated. "But-"

"Please," Dick pleaded, and then did Damian realize how much this was affecting his older brother. After thinking about it for a moment, Damian finally surrendered to the man, causing a sad smile to bloom on Dick's face.

They rushed back to the cave on Nightwing's motorcycle, Damian feeling Dick's stuttering breaths echoing in his chest as the younger one sat behind him.

* * *

It was time for patrol by the time they arrived at the cave, Damian's injury causing more and more blood loss. The young man could not manage a glance at the injury, knowing it would only make his skin crawl even more. Before he could stop his brother, Dick was carrying him to the cots with a sense of urgency Damian himself did not possess.

When being carefully placed on the cot, he glared at the man carrying him, who, in turn, didn't seem to mind one bit.

"I'm gonna go get Alfred, okay?" Grayson asked him, as if he were mentally deficient. "Put pressure on it. Okay? Can you do that?" Damian's expression could not be described as anything but a pout, so Dick fondly shook his head and ran upstairs to find his grandfather-figure.

However, before Damian could find any private time, his father and Tim came around the corner with worried expressions. "Dick just told us what happened," Tim said, and Damian wanted to smack his eldest sibling suddenly. "Are...you alright?"

Damian made a -_tt_\- noise under his breath, the noise comforting. "I am alright." He hesitated before muttering out, "I was told to put pressure on-" Damian was interrupted by his father grabbing a disinfected towel on a nearby tray and placing pressure on the wound for him. Damian let out a long breath he didn't know he was holding while he stared at the ceiling, once again counting and naming all the bats he could recall.

He remembered his manners, then said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Damian."

Alfred came flourishing into the medical bay, habitually putting on medical gloves. "Would you like a blindfold, Master Damian?"

There a short silence, then: "Yes."

"Yes...?"

"Please," Damian corrected himself. Then he felt the familiar, soft fabric in his right hand, instantly putting it over his eyes while he lied down.

He heard his grandfather's humming as he worked around the pole, the noise somehow comforting to Damian.

"Master Damian-"

Before Alfred could finish, the boy reached down to his neck to wrap scarred fingers around the familiar silicon and brought it to his mouth. He felt the horrible feeling of the pole slowly being retracted from his thigh, and bit into the silicon with a sense of urgency. "Damian," he heard Dick say, as though he were feeling the same things as Damian. And that was just ridiculous.

Damian dug his fingers into the skin of his arms, and he felt Bruce's hands prying them away from his own skin and instead to said father's palms. "You saw Jon, correct?" Bruce asked hesitantly.

Damian nodded tensely. "How was he?" His father questioned. Damian felt the last part of the pole exit the wound, and let out a long breath through the silicon and his own teeth.

Damian spat out the necklace, and replied, "He is going to...some stupid American school dance." He paused, then, "It is absolutely horrendous."

Without the blindfold, he would have been able to see his entire family, including Alfred, shake their head and attempt to hide their smirks at the news. Bruce cleared his throat, managing to say back, "If I may ask why it is 'horrendous'."

Damian was quick to reply, the clench in his jaw making him look like his father. "I do not know this weakling. If I do not know her, she is simply unworthy of Jonathan." His tone dripped loathe.

Tim had to suppress his snickers by the hand which was cupped around his mouth. Dick whipped his head around to meet his brother's eyes, and they both simultaneously burst into chuckles.

They could all feel Damian glaring at his blindfold, so Bruce amended, "We simply like the undying...loyalty you share with Jon." It was then that Bruce dropped Damian's hands.

Damian huffed frustratedly, placing the silicon back into his mouth in order to avoid anymore conversation. "It's okay to like a boy," Dick told his brother, his fondness leaking into his voice.

Damian paused, then grabbed the silicon. "Mother would be disgusted."

The air seemed to suck out of the room.

"A partner is for reproductive-"

"No it's not, Damian," Bruce interrupted him, his voice sounding too angry for Damian. "A relationship is for showing and receiving love."

Damian blinked behind his blindfold. "Mother said-"

"Talia is wrong." This time, it was Tim who interrupted him.

Damian opened his mouth once, then placed the silicon back in his mouth with shaking fingers, not bothering to reply. He was shutting down, he felt it.

Apparently, his family was unaware because Bruce told him, "I've been in relationships with men, son." Bruce hesitated, "Are you disgusted by me?"

Damian sunk his teeth into the necklace, and did not reply. Oh yes, he was shutting down. He wanted to be fixed up and go upstairs by himself. He couldn't handle this too talkative company anymore. It felt suffocating, the things they were saying.

Time passed as Alfred finished stitching up the wound. "There you are, Master Damian," Alfred informed him. "Call me when it needs to be cleaned, please. Let me get you a pair of crutches, Master Damian," Alfred told him, moving to another compartment in the bay and pulling out said crutches.

Damian lifted the blindfold, instantly beginning to protest, "I do not require crutches."

Pennyworth snapped his head towards the boy, his eyes threatening yet somehow also laced with concern. "It is necessary, Master Damian." Damian opened his mouth, but was interrupted by his grandfather-figure. "If you are to refuse I will not hesitate to force your father and brothers to carry you around the manor bridal style."

Damian pouted as he was handed the crutches.

* * *

Lois and Clark were currently in a row. This was rare. They usually manage their disagreements with time, despite how stubborn they both were. However, Clark was being a little too stubborn, currently.

"I am not, Lo! I refuse," Clark said at the break room the next day.

"C'mon, Smallville," Lois teased, her voice teetering on frustration. "You're the man of the house. Why don't you take initiative?"

Clark's shoulders slumped. "Jon is too young for that!" He protested, his own voice growing louder with every moment.

Lois dropped her sandwich on her paper bag, then facepalmed. "Clark," he sighed, "our son is 14-years-old. _Fourteen_!"

Clark sighed under his breath frustratedly. "Can you please do it, Lo? We've been arguing about this for days ."

Lois crossed her arms and shook her head stubbornly. "No way, Smallville. You know damn well I don't have penis. However, _you_ do," she stated.

"But-"

"I don't care how awkward it's going to be! Jon is growing up and deserves a proper talk," she told him firmly. "Remember what he said about Sadie Hawkins? How he's going with a girl?" Clark could tell his wife hesitated before also mentioning, "Also, Damian? What happens if they're...doin' that and don't know how to properly do it?"

Clark hid his head in his hand, his entire body tense.

"Fine," he finally agreed after a long pause.

Lois smiled victoriously, then returned to her sandwich. "That's what I thought, Clark."

* * *

It was after dinner that Clark was pressured into finally talking to his son. "-Don't even have time to prepare, Lois!" He whispered urgently to her.

Lois scoffed as she shoved him upstairs where Jon was in his room. "It's not like you're about to have sex," she joked. Clark gave her a desperate look. "Plus, think about it in the long run. What happens if you never talk and he gets a poor girl pregnant?"

Clark's face went white as a sheet, causing Lois to shake her head at her husband's reaction. "Go! Go!" She shooed him upstairs. He finally complied.

It was while Clark was knocking on Jon's door that he began to feel a bit better about the talk. _Go inside, talk about contraception, answer any questions that he may have. Though he probably won't have any. _

Jon opened his bedroom door, a small smile on his face. "Hey, Pops. What's up?" The door was still closed enough that Clark could not see the entire room.

Clark was lost in looking around in his son's room with his x-ray vision when Jon repeated, "Dad? What's wrong?"

Snapped out of his own thoughts, Clark chuckled with a tone that didn't seem entirely truthful. "Is it okay if we talk in your room, Bud?" Jon blinked, then nodded slowly, the gears inside his head rapidly turning as he attempted to decipher what his father was so concerned with. The name alone could raise suspicions within Jon.

He was met with a clear answer when Clark mentioned, as casually as he could manage, "'Heard you're goin' to Sadie Hawkins," Clark audibly gulped, "with a girl."

Jon blushed to the tips of his ears. "Y-yeah. It's nothing, though. She just wants to go so she can get in and hang out with her friends," he explained quickly.

Clark nodded, still avoiding his son's eyes. "Okay," he breathed out. "I believe you, son." Jon let out a long-held breath. Then: "However, we wanna make sure your...safe incase somethin' comes up in the...future."

Jon grimaced. "It's okay, Dad. I don-"

"Condoms are a good—um—contraceptive. If they say they're on birth control, make sure ya' know for sure. And still use a condom otherwise," Clark's face was red, and he recalled his previous thoughts and wanted to scream at his past self because that was just stupid!The last thing he wanted to see when talking about sex was his son's face.

Jon was leaning on the wall opposite to him, posture emanating anything other than a laid-back attitude. Clark scratched his jaw, then continued, "Don't ever, uhh...p-pull out?"

Jon smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. Clark pretended not to notice and continued, "This is the same for guys. Don't forget to be safe even if they can't get pregnant. You might not know what they're...carryin' or anythin' like that."

Jon seemed as though he wanted to melt into the floor, and honestly Clark couldn't blame him. He wanted this to end as soon as possible.

"Always make sure there's consent on all parties. If they say yes, then...uh, go uh, go ahead. If they're drunk, don't. If they're high, don't. If they don't seem sure, don't."

"I know, Dad," Jon reassured him. He was taught at a young age that touching without consent—even it being a simple hug—was inappropriate. His parents had drilled that lesson into his head, and he had learned the true importance of it when he began hanging out with Damian.

When Clark began speaking again, however, Jon wanted to pound his head into a wall, though he knew he would feel nothing from it. "Always use lube with guys. If girls need it, then use it."

It felt never ending.

Then Jon paused. _Wait a dang minute_.

"Dad?" Jon interrupted whatever mindless babbling about where to get condoms his father was doing. Clark lifted his eyes to meet his son's. "How do you know all this about," Jon cleared his throat awkwardly, "uh, gay sex?"

Clark's blush resembled his cape. "No-nothin', Bud," he practically yelled. "Nothin' at all," he repeated, his voice down to a whisper, and whatever Clark was remembering was obviously reminiscent.

Jon sucked in a deep breath, then blinked quickly to avoid eye contact with his father even more. "Right. Um. Sorry I asked."

Clark nodded as he was snapped back to reality. He hesitated, then asked, "It's alright, son. Any questions?"

There a lull in the conversation, both males tense. Then Jon answered, "Gosh no."

"Oh thank the lord," his father replied instantly, then got up to finally leave the stuffy room. He had reached the door when he turned back around, some Superman confidence in his posture, and said, "You can always ask me or your mother if you have any questions, okay Jon?"

Jon's posture dropped as he let out a long breath, finally meeting his dad's eyes. "I understand, Dad."

Clark nodded approvingly, a small smile quirking at the ends of his lips, then told Jon, "Goodnight, son."

"'Night, Pops."

——-

A/N: Did you like????? Criticism is always appreciated! All love!!! 3


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello, again!! I know this came out pretty soon but this was one of my easier chapters tbh. Thank you so much for the love and please enjoy the chapter!!

WARNING: talks about sex (SFW). Some violence.

———

Lois was surprisingly patient about how the talk had went. When told what had happened, she just nodded along as though she were listening, when in reality she was only doing half-so due to being caught up with work. She trusted Clark enough to do what was necessary.

"Lois?" She hummed in response while typing rapidly. "I never wanna do that again." This time, she laughed.

Lois finally turned her attention away from the computer, the amused smile still on her face. "Don't worry, Blue. No more kids," she commented. His own smile turned soft. He was grateful.

* * *

It was Thursday when Jon (_finally_) confronted Damian. The 16-year-old was at the manor library, a heavy book in his two hand while his leg was straightened out by him resting it on the coffee table with some pillows. Jon could only see due to his x-ray vision—could also see it was almost finished healing enough that Damian would be able to go back on patrol tomorrow. Jon couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten it. It seemed a couple days old. Maybe right after their fight. Maybe before that and Jon didn't even notice because he was caught up in his own emotions and maybe that was why Damian was so upset and_ how selfish of me is that-_

He was hovering outside the door right knuckle about to knock on the wooden door when his partner announced, "You may come in, Kent."

Jon felt some sort of shame along with a child-like embarrassment. He barely peeked his head around the vast door when Damian gave him the blandest of looks, showing Jon he was impatient. Jon, despite his embarrassment, couldn't help but like that Damian was consistent with things that weren't only his words.

"Hi," Jon muttered, his usual confidence somehow diminished with one moment with Damian. Damian's brows furrowed in a confused, suspicious way. "Just-"

"What, Kent?"

Jon's head ducked down. "Yeah, sorry," he stuttered out. "I wanted to...just say that I'm sorry about our fight. I was being mean and inconsiderate." Damian's eyes narrowed, a sure sign of a need for more explanation. Jon provided. "I wasn't taking what you wanted into mind an' that's mean. I can...not go the dance with her if you want."

There a long pause, Damian dropping 'Jane Eyre.' Jon stopped himself from flinching at the hard sound it created—it had felt like a gunshot during a silent night.

"You are sad," Damian stated, and Jon opened his mouth to speak only to find that he was close to tears. Damian bit the inside of his cheek, then said, "You may go with the girl." Damian's face was pained. _Worried_ was the word that ran across Jon's mind.

Then: "Contact me if you require...help."

Jon's mind flashed to the talk with his dad, then his mind took a turn he remembered Damian's involuntary untrustworthy tendencies. Jon knew he had little control over those tendencies. Especially when in an episode. What kind of episode, Jon didn't care. He simply wanted to help his friend.

"Damian?" The older boy didn't reply. "Are you having an episode?"

Jon heard Damian's curt sniffle, then him picking up the book again. Jon sighed, leaning against the doorway and somehow feeling more upset with himself with Damian's apparent approval. However, Jon knew better.

* * *

Damian was given the clear that next night when he proved he was able to run and stretch without any major pain. The young man was in the Batmobile with his father, the car rumbling yet silent under his seat, when the older man pulled into an empty alley.

Damian's jaw clenched as he looked around, confused. He knew his father would never do anything to him, but _what if_-

"Damian," Batma-no, Bruce Wayne said. It did nothing to calm Damian's rising nerves. "It's okay," Bruce soothed, something so out of character that it shocked Damian back to reality. He could never truly predict what his father would say. Ever. He could pinpoint the body language, but his words...

"What?" His tone was shaky, though he would never admit it.

Batman lifted his cowl, showing the familiar, comforting face of Bruce Wayne. And suddenly Damian didn't feel like screaming anymore. "I need to talk to you," Bruce told him softly.

Damian raised an eyebrow, then nodded slowly. "What about?"

Bruce's mouth opened, then closed. He was hesitating, Damian had realized. _So inconsistent_.

"Are you aware of..." And there was that hesitation again, and it made Damian want to scream again. "Sexual practices," Bruce finally managed out.

Damian blinked. "Yes."

Bruce grimaced, pursing his lips while the wrinkle between his brows increased. "Are you aware of safe sex?" Bruce's voice suddenly turned deeper, imitating the Batman.

_So inconsistent_.

"Yes," Damian replied impatiently. "If I have any questions I will not hesitate to turn to technology."

Bruce paused, contemplating if he should say no—Damian needs to turn to someone in real life. Whether that be him or Dick or even Tim or Alfred. But he trudged on. "This is very important, Damian," the boy's eyes snapped in his general direction, "if a person ever says no, don't. If you ever feel like an unwilling participant, say no. If they're intoxicated, don't. If they need coercion, don't."

Damian nodded along. This, he knew. Throughout his time at the manor he had learned the importance of consent—especially if he did not give it. Even for a simple hug, Dick would retract when Damian said he didn't want one. It felt safe, knowing he had a voice.

"I understand," Damian breathed out.

Bruce nodded once. "Good," he praised. "Do you...have any questions, Damian?"

Damian bit the inside of his cheek, then answered, "No, Father."

"Very well." They drove off.

* * *

They were able to track Rodriguez's coordinates (with the help of Barbara) and make a proper plan. Robin would go in and distract the man while Batman collected as much evidence he could in order to prosecute the man for at least a decade.

Robin plugged in his earplugs, the world temporarily silencing around him. He suddenly heard his father's interrupt that silence, though. "Status, Robin?"

Damian, with mastery of blending into shadows, crept upon the building. "Moving in," he answered shortly.

He heard Batman sigh into the comm., but ignored it. He needed to concentrate. He felt the wooden floor under him as he broke into the building. Outwardly, the appearance was homey (homey for Gotham, that is), however the blueprints showed it had a giant basement, which most likely served for the kids to reside before getting shipped off.

Damian scowled. _Disgusting_.

Then he felt a barely perceptible creak under his feet, and mentally berated himself for not thinking the wood would be old enough to creak when walked on. Damian leapt onto a nearby dresser, then managed to get up onto the ceiling, holding himself up against gravity with his entire body.

His leg shook, but he continued holding on as he saw Anthony's form come into the room. The man was most likely sober currently, as per the full ability to walk around with little issue. Robin took one earplug out and listened in on the conversation the man was having on his cell.

"...hm," Anthony hummed, looking around the entire room carefully. However, he placed the phone next to his ear when he determined he was safe. "That was weird. Anyway!" The man snapped back into his arrogant, cocky self. "The shipment will be ready tomorrow-"

There was talking on the other line, then Anthony replied, "No, Sir. We've been training them for a few weeks. They should be compliant. No issues, Sir."

_Disgusting_.

More talking on the other line, then: "They're within the 3-10 age range. Perfect, right?" He sounded satisfied with himself, and Damian wanted to pound him in the face. "Yes," Anthony laughed freely. "They're perfect especially for any men," Anthony held up his index finger, as if he were talking about an interesting revelation, "or women who need to...lets say—let off some steam."

Damian's nostrils flared. "Like I previously explained—they're compliant, willing," the pervert reiterated.

It was then that Damian jumped the man.

The young man dropped his entire body to only land on Anthony, his weight surprising the man. Anthony dropped starfish style on the wooden floor, and Damian smirked. Anthony reached for the phone only for Robin to step on it, effectively crushing it. They could still be able to hack it later.

Robin's leg was still shaking, but he could not care less. This creep was going to get what he deserved and more.

The fight was more one-sided than anything, Robin continuously knocking down the older man by any means. "You are disgusting," Robin spat out, kicking the man's head harshly.

The man coughed up some blood, attempting to crawl away but failing miserably. Any inch that he moved, Robin would pull the man towards him and either smash his face or dig a foot into any part he could access.

Anthony gave up, and Damian smirked before Anthony began begging, causing the smirk to drip off his face. "Please! I have money! You can have the money! I don't fucking care just—please!"

Robin growled through his teeth. "You are disgusting," he repeated, malice the only emotion in his voice.

Anthony's tears suddenly stopped, and Damian stilled. Something in his gut told him something was wrong. What it was, he couldn't identify-

Robin felt a stabbing pain in his foot, and when he looked down he saw why it felt stabbing. He was...well, stabbed. By Anthony. The man looked up from his foot, his eyes saying, 'Victory,' when it was anything but otherwise.

Robin yelled out in anger. "You are disgusting," he spat out once again, no other sentence but that playing through his head.

Anthony smirked, and got up from his spot on the floor, bloodied yet proud. The man scanned Damian, and the boy tried to get the knife budge but it was stuck into the floorboards. He knew he couldn't grab it. He would need to bend down and there was no way...

His chin was grabbed roughly, so Robin threw a punch into the man's cheek. Anthony seemed not affected, instead throwing a palm into the boy's forehead. Damian struggled before using his elbows to crack the other man's wrists.

Anthony's arm dropped, and looked at the break, then Robin. His expression grew furious, his eyebrows lowering down to his eyes while mouth drew a straight line.

Anthony suddenly looked behind Damian, the arrogant expression back on his face. It was only until he felt the pill being shoved into his mouth that Damian realized he was played.

* * *

As Clark helped his son with his tie, he felt some sort of pride for the young man he had raised. Jon was a beautiful combination of Lois and Clark in all departments. His looks were a blend of them, as was the spunky, yet kind and patient personality he had developed the older he got.

"There you are, son," Clark told him with a boyish smile on his face. Jon returned that same smile.

"Thanks, Dad!" Jon briefly hugged said father and ran into the living room where his mother stood there with her phone.

"Smile, Honey!" Lois demanded with a wide smile. Jon groaned, causing Lois to tilt her head challengingly. Jon's shoulders dropped and he placed a somewhat genuine smile on his face. Lois was more than liberal with taking pictures. After what seemed like forever, Jon's mother finally said, "Alright, Hun. Have a good time."

Jon was about to finally leave when he was interrupted with a, "Ah." He stopped, rolled his eyes (he made sure it was away from his mother's eyesight) before turning back to Lois and providing a goodbye hug.

"Do not roll your eyes at me, mister," Lois reprimanded in his ear, then nudged him toward the front door. _How did she-_

"Sorry, ma'am," he apologized with a faint blush. "Thank you! Bye! Love you!" He yelled out before slamming open the front door and leaving in an excited flurry.

Lois shook her head fondly as she watched her son leave, and couldn't help it when tears welled up in her eyes. Her baby was growing up.

———

A/N: Did you like it? Have an amazing day and all love!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Hi!! I'm back with the second the last chapter!! I'm so happy that I decided to upload this fic. It's honestly one of my favorites. Again, thank you so much for being so kind and supportive!! Please enjoy the chapter!!

WARNING: cursing and meltdowns/panic attacks. very mild homophobia.

——-

'Fuck.'

One word kept running through Bruce's head. He had made a miscalculation. An irreversible one.

While he was collecting evidence, he had not heard anything from his partner and son, assuming everything was going smoothly. Batman was able to obtain the evidence while Robin distracted the ring leader.

Bruce should have estimated that his son would be unwilling to ask for help. It was foolish for him to be so off-guard. So neglectful.

As Bruce looked at the tracker on the Batmobile screen, he regretted that he had not done the bloody work while Damian did the intelligent. However, no. Bruce was left with a missing son most likely kidnapped by a child trafficking ring. All by his own distracted mind.

Bruce stopped his own thoughts, refusing to simply sit there any longer. The man pulled down his cowl again, then tapped the communicator.

"Red Robin, assistance needed on-"

"Got it. Dispatching in about 2 minutes. ETA 5 minutes."

* * *

Valerie smelled like flowers—tulips, to be exact. But it's not like Jon noticed or anything...

It honestly wasn't the most pleasant fragrance he had smelt before. Damian smelled like vanilla and a certain spice that he could never properly place, but knew was in his own spice cabinet so it had to be of a common one. Again, not like Jon noticed or anything...

They were officially inside the dance, now. Other young men, women, and anything in between were dancing with their friends or partners. Something Jon found endearing.

Of course, some were too provocative, but Jon simply ignored them. He turned his attention to Val, who was still in his space, surprisingly. He had expected her to immediately leave when they got in, but he guessed she wanted at least one dance before she left for her friends.

Val and him danced for a couple songs before the young woman, leaned into his chest. Her makeup was done more subtly, so Jon theorized someone in her family had done it for her this time. Her thin eyes were no longer so emphasized to seem larger than they actually were, and Jon liked that.

"Uh," Jon said awkwardly while Val rubbed her thin fingers onto his shoulder in a falsely coy manner. "H-hi," he said lamely.

Val looked up at him, a small smirk lifting up one corner of her lips. "You already said that earlier tonight," she mentioned, and Jon felt like an idiot. A genuine smile bloomed on her expression.

"Can I kiss you?"

_WHAT_.

"What?" Jon asked, bamboozled.

Val bit her lip, some shyness coming through her body language. "I just...um."

Jon waited for her to finish, but the lack of eye contact and wild blush across her cheeks showed she would not be able to get much out anyway. "I like someone else," he admitted, shocking Val into silence.

Val's eyes blinked rapidly as she felt the stinging burn of rejection. However: "I-I understand." Jon's expression softened, and he opened his mouth to make some reassurance, that she was beautiful in her own way or that he would like her as a friend, but she breathed out, "Sorry."

Jon's shoulders slumped. "It's okay. It's not your fault. It's mine," he replied. "I'm sorry for," he paused, then, "for kinda...implyin' that I wanted to be your boyfriend."

Val shook her head quickly. "No. I just assumed without much thought. It was my fault." Jon bit his lip, avoiding as much eye contact with her as he could manage. "If I may ask," Val hesitated, "who this person is. They're pro'ly pretty important to you."

Jon smiled to himself. "Yeah. He's...um, someone I've known for a few years."

At the pronoun, Val's eyebrows lifted to her hairline. "He?" Jon grimaced, then nodded. "Oh my gosh. I'm a fucking idiot," she told herself, facepalming. Jon was about to ask her why, but she beat him to the punch. "You're gay!" She yelled over the loud music. It caught a few of his peer's attentions.

Jon stilled, a taken-aback expression on his face. He shook himself, then, "No! I-I like girls too!"

Val tilted her head. "Why don't you like _me _then?"

"I-I've liked him since I first met him. It's hard for me to see anything else in other people." Jon felt a hot flash go through his entire body, yet he shivered.

"But how do you know you like girls?" Val asked, her tone not biting but simply curious.

Jon felt hot all over his body. His classmate's stares were boring into his soul. "I..." he couldn't form a simple coherent thought other than, "I don't know! I just do!" He felt his head spin as more and more of his peers saw him scramble for a proper answer.

Val shook her head and her mouth opened to speak, but before she could get anything out Jon felt his feet rushing out of the gym doors, the noises of the dance transforming into a white noise. The night wind hit him in the face, his heated skin such a contrast with the cold of the evening. Administrators noticed his frazzled appearance, asking him questions that he—a boy with _superhearing_—could not properly hear.

His stomach felt like it was tangled in a single, complex knot. He felt himself rush to the boy's bathroom, and a new, unfamiliar feeling of loneliness ran through his body. He needed to hear something, to ground himself.

His mind flashed to Damian. To the young man's brash personality. To his golden skin, distinct green eyes, to his endearing social confusion, to his devotion to his family and pets, to his devotion to Jon. As a friend.

Jon suddenly heard muffled breathing, the sound echoing in his ears. He heard the sound of a hand slapping against concrete. He heard the sound of Damian's pleas in Arabic filtered by something that was in his mouth.

Jon felt his body alight with fight.

The fire behind his eyes returned, carefully controlled yet filled with nothing but hatred.

_To his devotion to Jon as a partner_.

* * *

Bruce heard the tires screech behind him. He didn't bother looking in Red Robin's direction. "Last contact was thirty minutes ago. Most likely drugged and taken underground."

Tim nodded, the motion curt. "Entry point?" Batman told him. He nodded once again.

"We need to enter through the west-"

"Well, look who's here!" Batman finally turned to face the Red Hood, his hood boring into Bruce's eyes. His tone was sarcastic, not playful like it usually was with his younger brothers. Bruce knew Jason seeing him in costume was going to send him into a frenzy.

"This is my fuckin' turf. _Scat_," Jason bit out, looking threatening through his helmet and into Bruce's unwavering eyes.

Red Robin sighed. "Hood-"

"Don' fuckin' 'Hood' me. Last time B and I talked was a month ago. Now he wants to see me to only fuck up my case." Hood's fists were clenched. "I ain't letting you do that, old man. This is _my_ case." The voice modulator only served to make it more venomous, intimidating.

Batman refused to be intimidated, though.

"Robin has been kidnapped."

Jason's entire body stiffened. "What?" He whispered, his voice cautious yet deadly.

"Rodriguez captured Robin. We need to retrieve him." No emotion shone through Batman's voice. He couldn't let it. Or else he would break, and at least two-thirds of the group needs to be somewhat sane. He would have preferred three-thirds, but you can't have everything.

Hood's helmet ducked, then his chest suddenly felt like it was caving in. "I'm gonna shoot that fucker," he growled. He had developed a soft spot for the kid especially after he was told of his diagnoses.

Red Robin snorted. "Ditto."

Batman growled.

"C'mon, Red," Hood said to Tim. "Let's shoot some bitches before B ends the universe wit' his fuckin' brooding." Then they heard the echoing gun shots, revealing that they were already beginning to fight. Why, though?

Red Robin frowned, then followed his brother into the building. He turned back to their father before he could fully enter the building, however. "I'll make sure nothing...happens."

Bruce pursed his lips, then began following his son into the building. "That's unnecessary," he replied, "You can't make Hood not do anything. I should know, Red Robin."

Tim snorted unpleasantly before climbing into the same window Hood had just gone through. "True."

* * *

Jon was in flight above Gotham, not caring about Mr. Wayne's stupid no-meta rule. That rule didn't matter right now. Nothing did. Except saving Damian.

Jon attempted to regain control of his powers, focusing his hearing solely on noticing his partner. The world around him silenced as Damian's panicked breaths and hiccups, and Jon felt another surge of anger course through him before he was able to pinpoint vaguely where Damian was.

As Jon flew to the area, his pulse picked up as his worry rose. Maybe Damian was kidnapped and exposed as Robin. Maybe an ableist group were tracking down autistic young men. Maybe he was kidnapped for his body to be used. Maybe-

Jon blinked when he saw he was standing in front of the same building Damian was locked up. He heard his partner's panicking, but louder and less echoey. The young man didn't hesitate to walk up the entrance.

He felt the bullet ricochet off his chest as the henchmen shot at him—now inside—but didn't care much. Jon grabbed a nearby shooter by the collar, throwing him into a wall. The wall cracked, but didn't collapse. _Pity._

Jon fought in a hurry, not bothering to use proper maneuvers. It was useless. He needed to get to Damian. He was hurt!

It was three minutes later that Jon was able to knock out most of the henchmen. Jon heard Damian's gasp, and the shuffling of feet across concrete. Small voices urgently whispering. _Three minutes too late._

Jon super sped down to the basement, then his dejected blue eyes caught the various cages lining the walls. Tens of children were there in cages, their faces preparing for anything but a symbol of hope.

When Jon saw the kids, he wanted to scream; because of course Damian would risk himself for these kids. All younger than him, all desperate for an escape. Damian had too big of a heart for his mind, sometimes.

Jon felt another surge of panic as he began to smack open the locks, their trembling hands avoiding the Superboy's. "You can trust me," he assured a little girl with a not entirely stable voice. The girl was backed into a dirty corner. "You know Superman?" The little girl nodded hesitantly. "He's my dad."

Her face lit up, hope finally brimming to edges of her brown eyes in what he assumed had been a very long time.

Her hand reached out to meet his.

* * *

They were just entering through the window when they heard crashes. Wood cracking, heavy grunts from a physical fight. Red Robin, Hood, and Batman all shared a single look, then broke up. All three men spread through the false house, ready to fight around each and every corner.

Gunshots were still flying throughout the house, but they were able to either dodge or take cover. It was the frantic yelling that concerned them most. However, the noises ceased after a few minutes.

Red Robin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. _Who the hell is here? _

Bruce was the one to encounter Superboy. As he saw the boy dodge bullets, use his powers for _good_, he felt a surge of pride go up his spine. Jon was like a son to him—the son of his good friend. Someone he could trust, which was rare.

So when Bruce saw the boy fight for his son, he stopped himself from doing anything. He continued on, knowing that Jon deserved this moment. To fight for someone he liked. He deserved to feel some semblance of independence.

Batman was still going to ensure the young man was safe, don't read him incorrectly. He would never put the boy in so much danger he would be hurt. Clark would be devastated if so.

Batman reached for his comm.. "Going to the basement. Clear. Batman out," his curt, one-sided information making his sons stop in their tracks.

"Ba-" Red Robin was cut off by the click of Bruce's communicator.

Batman made sure he collected evidence on his way to the basement. However, when he turned the corner to see Jon holding out his hand for a caged little girl he felt his heart squeeze. It felt too familiar: it was a scene he had seen Clark act out.

The other children began to walk into the light, their face hopeful and bright. Bruce felt the hand loosen around his heart as he saw Jon's kind, shy smile. So reminiscent of his father.

It was after a full minute of helping the children that Jon's spine straightened, his remembrance of Damian evident. Jon focused on his hearing, attempting to track the older boy. He was met with success when he heard Damian's heightened breaths, the thumping of his quick heart.

Jon ran to the corner of the basement, sliding to the floor to meet Damian's eyeline and assure the boy someone he loved was there. Damian lifted his head from his knees when he heard Jon's knees slide on the concrete, his face tear-tracked and the silicon in his mouth.

Bruce ran after he heard his son chanting, "Get me out. Get me out." He felt his throat tighten up, his entire body screaming at him to run faster down the stairs and place his son in arms. Damian deserved to be safe.

Jon punched the lock, effectively breaking the cell open. Damian quickly picked himself and began running. Before he could break loose anymore, however, he felt his cape being tugged open.

He was about to attack when he heard a deep voice say, "Robin." Damian stopped in his tracks, his chest somehow heaving after a few short seconds of running and eyes wide.

Damian blinked. Then he was being lifted into arms. Damian kicked, thrashed. Felt too much. Wanted whoever was touching him to stop. "Let go!" He screamed in Arabic. "Tarak ly!" He screamed loud enough for Tim and Jason to come rushing down the basement stairs.

"What-"

Bruce interrupted Jason. "Superboy, take him to the cave." He handed his son to Jon, his grip careful despite his frantic son.

Jon nodded, his eyes brimming with worry, then did as he was told.

Bruce looked at his sons. "Damian was locked up," he explained shortly. Both heroes, after it sunk in, realized the true distress their baby brother had been in.

"Kid deserved better," Jason said into the silence. And that sentence had never been truer.

* * *

Jon rushed into the cave, his feet a blur under him. Damian continued to push and pull whatever he could, his heavy breathing fanning over Jon's neck in a desperate manner. Jon felt his heart beat deep in his chest, his and Damian's last conversation replaying in his head. He wished he could go back in time and stop that conversation. Damian had so obviously not wanted him to go. Maybe that was the cause of Damian's current predicament.

"Mister Pennyworth!" Jon yelled out over Damian's weakened body.

He heard paces in his direction, then saw the concerned face of Alfred Pennyworth. The elder man did not ask many questions, but simply said, "Please place him on that cot, Master Jon." Jon hastily followed his direction, his heart still beating out of his chest. "Gently, lad," Alfred reminded gently. Jon blushed, but did as he was told.

Alfred sighed as he looked at the sight— sadness for his grandson's state yet also happiness that Jon seemed to realize who he was mixed into that one sound. "He's having a panic attack along with a meltdown," Alfred noted. "Simultaneously."

Jon furrowed his brows. Alfred answered that silent question, "I presume you are aware of what a panic attack is." The elder began to reach into various medical cabinets, pulling out antiseptic and needles, using a sedative to knock out the poor boy. When Jon nodded, Alfred began speaking again, "A meltdown is when a person with autism experiences overstimulation." Jon's eyebrows shot up. "They usually act out in manners that show they're irritated, but many people, at first glance, believe they are simply temper tantrums. They are not," Alfred explained patiently.

Jon nodded along while the old man explained, his head spinning and mind overloaded. "Damian has autism?" Jon blurted out, surprising himself.

"Yes, sir." Then Alfred was back to healing Damian's physical wounds.

The night passed in a blur, Batman, Red Hood, and Red Robin all coming back to the cave to check on their youngest family member. Dick was also in contact with them through comm.. It was different for Jon—to be in such a clinical, sometimes cold-hearted yet family-oriented home.

It was when Bruce's phone began ringing that he was snapped back to the fact that it's almost midnight and he still hadn't contacted his dad. He winced when he heard his father's frantic tone over the line.

"He hasn't returned since he left for the dance!"

"Clark-"

"Maybe he's been kidnapped. Or killed. Or worse..."

"Clark-"

"Maybe he took that girl home! Lois was wrong—I should not have given him that talk! It's put...i-ideas into his head!"

"Clark!"

Bruce was angry, Jon could tell. He could see the narrowed eyes and clenched fists. "Jon is currently with us," the older man gritted out. The other line was silent for a full ten seconds.

"May I speak with him?"

Jon didn't bother with decency, but instead reached out for the phone with a single hand. Bruce glared at him briefly for imposing on their conversation, but Jon didn't care much. Couldn't find himself to care because Damian was right there on a cot unconscious and wounded.

"Ye', Dad?"

He heard his father's sigh of relief even over the line. "Ya' alright, Jon?"

Jon sniffed and looked down at his lap. Anything to avoid the sight of Damian's limp body on that cot. "I'm okay, Pops. Just..." He took in a deep, heavy breath to control the flood of emotion. "Damian's been hurt. Badly. I need to be here."

Clark opened his mouth once, then closed it. "Is he critical?"

Jon shook his head, then remembered his dad couldn't see him over the call. "No, but he's passed out rinnow," Jon replied.

Clark let out a long, relieved breath. "He's gonna be okay, son. Ya'll will be okay," he told him, as though it were a fact. As though he were also telling himself that.

Jon felt tears fill his eyes. "How do you know, Dad?"

There was pause. Clark replied, "I don't know, Jon. I just have to have hope."

Jon felt his lower lip tremble, and couldn't contain the tears anymore. He felt thin, salty tears run down his face and couldn't help but think of the what ifs. But he recalled the words of wisdoms his parents had told him over the years ("Love is powerful, Hun. It can help solve the most trivial things."; "Keep moving forward. That's the only thing you can do, son.") and felt some strange spark of hope fill his chest. He stared straight at Damian, remembering their happiest moments along with the worst. The fights that were caused by Jon's stupidity, along with some of Damian's mixed into them. The days they hung around in the trees, their bodies filled with sunshine and eyes filled to the brim with fondness.

"Are ya' sure you're alright, Jonny?" Clark asked with a soft voice.

Jon felt the tears fall down his face, and embraced it. The good and the bad. The sad, the happy. The moments he cherished most and the moments that made him grow. The days that he felt filled with love from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet. And the days in between.

"Yeah, Dad. I just love Damian."

———

Did y'all like it? It was one of the tensest chapters I've ever written. Again, criticism is ALWAYS appreciated with any of my works—especially with this one. Once again, thank you so very much!! See you on the next (last) chapter and all love!!!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello!! This is officially the last chapter and before we get to the content, I just wanted to say that I'm so thankful for all my readers! And I truly hope you all enjoy the last chapter. All love!!

———-

Damian woke up the next day, feeling gross. His eyes had formed crusts and he felt dirty. Yet he was still tired.

When he looked to his right, he saw a familiar, comforting form at his bedside. There sat his father, working on his tablet. As soon as Damian turned his head, however, Bruce looked up from the device.

Damian quickly turned his head around to face his left, which was vacant.

"Damian," Bruce regarded. There was a pause, then he continued, "How do you feel?"

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. "Okay," he replied shortly, though there was a horrible aching in his foot along with a stinging in his thigh. He was anything but okay.

Damian saw the glass of water at his bedside, the ice in the water slowly melting to homogenize with each other. Damian grabbed the glass and chugged it down, his throat now feeling slightly less dry.

"Has that scum been eradicated?"

Bruce sighed. "Yes. Rodriguez will be facing up to twenty years in prison. Most likely more than that." Damian looked satisfied with that answer, though a small part of Damian was still dreading questions about his own state.

Bruce carefully placed the tablet on the side table. "How do you actually feel?" He questioned.

Damian's lower lip trembled, the action involuntary. "Okay," he repeated, his voice stony. Bruce clenched his jaw, then shook his head stubbornly.

"No, Damia-"

"I apologize for reacting in such a manner that is usually not associated with Robin."

"_No_. Damian-"

"It won't happen again."

Bruce put his head in his hands. He groaned lowly, then said, "No, Damian. You do not deserve to have felt what you felt."

"Then why did you ask-"

"I need to know how you truly feel, Damian. If you're still emotionally exhausted or feeling better than a couple days ago. I don't know these things, and I would like to collect as much data as I possibly can, son," Bruce explained.

Damian turned his head to face the ceiling, once again counting the number and bats and naming them. "What does emotionally exhausted pertain?"

Bruce slumped against his chair, feeling just that: emotionally and physically exhausted. He hadn't gotten any sleep or breaks all night, his mind whirring with concern of his son. "It's usually defined by a short temper, tiredness, feeling sad or drained, and body aches," Bruce explained.

Damian blinked, then slowly nodded his head. Bruce took a deep breath, then got up from his chair. Damian's eyes widened greatly, causing Bruce to pause.

Bruce looked down. "I'm not going to punish you, Damian. For saying that you aren't feeling well." Damian's brows were raised suspiciously, his eyes searching and desperate. "I won't, Damian," Bruce reiterated, and Damian sniffed as he lowered his body back to the cot. He hadn't even noticed that he was getting up.

"Please go the sleep, son," Bruce told him gently. Damian scowled, but listened. When Bruce left the room, his face saying he was uncertain, Damian felt his muscles loosen.

Dick suddenly strode into the medical bay, his face covered with concern. "Damian," he whispered. Damian opened his eyes again, a scowl breaking out on his face.

Dick saw that familiar scowl, and smiled—relieved and bright. It was so Dick that it made Damian's lips quirk up a bit. "What do you want, Grayson?" He demanded, but his tone was anything but biting.

_Thank every diety that he is okay_, Dick thought.

"I can't visit my baby brother after he's been hurt? Hm?" Dick teased as he sat down on the opposite chair Bruce was previously sitting in.

"Not a baby."

Dick seemed to think for a moment, his eyes narrowed. "No," he corrected earnestly. "You're not, Damian." His expression was permeated in a certain nostalgia that left the older man feeling sad, yet proud. Dick paused, and Damian was worried he would leave him—just for a moment—but that train of thought halted when Dick changed the subject. "It seems you and Jon are getting along really well." It was not subtle at all, though the man tried to make it be. It was just so very Dick, and that made Damian smile. However, that smile was quickly ripped off his face when he remembered his and Jon's fight.

Damian took in a deep breath. "I disagree, Grayson."

Dick tilted his head curiously. "Something happened," he stated. He specifically chose not to ask a question.

"Jon apologized to me after stating he did no longer want to go the dance. He was sad. I allowed it, then," Damian explained shortly. He appeared confused after admitting to this. Then: "He still seemed sad."

Dick's smile turned to pursed lips. "I think he felt bad." Damian's brows furrowed. Dick elaborated, "He felt like he was manipulating you."

"That's illogical," Damian stated immediately. "It was my choice to give him permission."

Dick shook his head somewhat fondly, the same knowing smile back on his face. "I think you like him, Damian." Said young man gave him a bland stare, and Dick's returning laughter was light, airy. "Also, Dami, you don't control his life. Jon is his own person."

Damian shifted his focus back to the bed sheets, picking at them until a small, single thread popped up from the many others which were still woven in. "I want to be with him, Grayson," he confessed, feeling as though a mammoth weight was being dropped off his back. "The only way I can do that is by controlling him. As a partner."

Dick blinked slowly, sympathetically as he leaned forward in the plastic chair. His attention was fully focused on the young man, and though Damian felt uncomfortable by the stare, he was able to avoid the man's eyes with ease.

"You do like him. You should ask him out on a date."

Damian buried himself back into the blanket, suddenly wanting to scream. "Yes," he agreed moodily, off-handedly. "Father requested that I sleep. I would like you to leave."

Dick huffed shortly through his nose, then got up from his chair. The man stretched dramatically, and Damian rolled his eyes. "Goodnight, Damian. Love you."

Damian grunted unenthusiastically in response, but felt a warmth fill his chest.

* * *

Damian woke up hours later, feeling groggy, but more energized. He felt eyes on him after a full minute of resting, so he lifted his entire body in the blink of an eye, hands tensed for a punch.

There sat Jon, a coke bottle between his legs, simply—staring at him. Damian's face twisted into something resembling unpleasantness. Jon blinked, then a small, reassuring smile broke out upon his face. "Dami," he breathed out, his blue eyes shining despite the cave being dark.

It made Damian feel a familiar stir in his stomach. "Why are you here?" Damian demanded, his eyes boring into the cot sheets.

Jon faltered, he could tell. Why...Damian couldn't know why. Jon replied softly, "I was there, Dami." Damian's eyes widened. It had all seemed like a blur, being captured and saved. "I..." Jon stopped himself from speaking. "I helped save you," Jon finished.

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. How could Jon see him like that? How could the person he likes see him in such a weak state and yet still be kind to him? No, this had to be a ruse before Jon would inevitably break off the partnership.

"You may do it," Damian said monotonously.

Jon's brows furrowed. "What, Dami?" He asked, his tone still gentle. And Damian couldn't handle that. That Jon was being soft-spoken when he should just rip off the band-aid.

Damian's voice was hard as steel. "You may end our partnership."

Jon's jaw dropped. Then he got up to speak to Damian directly, moving to the side of the cot. "Damian," Jon said, "I am not going to ruin our friendship because I figured out that you have autism. I would never do that. Ever. You're-" Jon stopped himself, then began again with a faint blush painted across his freckled cheeks, "you're really important to me. You're kind, assertive, and a great person."

"And you do not manipulate, Jon," Damian declared suddenly, his expression still. Jon blinked quickly, his mouth wanting to make up some apology but his tongue was currently unable to form any words. _How does Damian know? Well, of course he would know. He has learned to read me like the back of his hand, as I have too._

_He deserves to know_, Jon thought.

Jon continued with a small, shaky smile, "I don't know if you like me—_like like _me. But," the smile became wider. "I do like you. _Like like _you," Jon confessed. After years of friendship, partnership, and more tension than he could handle even in a battle. But liking Damian was like a battle. It was unpredictable, thrilling, and made him feel like he was on the top of the world.

Damian inhaled a quick breath when he heard Jon's vulnerable confession, a sense of genuine fear building up in his chest. "How-Why?" Damian stuttered out, no other words being able to form in his dry mouth.

"I wanna be your boyfriend," Jon blurted out after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. His jaw dropped at his own words. He hadn't meant to say that so blatantly.

Damian bit the inside of his cheek, the nerves alighting. Did he want to be Jon's boyfriend? Did he want to be pressured to love someone he may not? How does one know when they feel love?

Damian felt like he would never know.

However, when he thought of the kind, gentle words and the complete acceptance and endearment Jon held for him, he didn't care. Love was accepting, Dick had told him. Love was kind and soft, yet also tough, at times. Love was Jon.

Jon bit his lower lip at the uncomfortable silence he had buried himself in. As he was about to make an even more uncomfortable apology, he heard Damian reply, voice still hard as steel, "I want to be your boyfriend, Jonathan." _So Damian. _Jon adored it.

Jon felt his knees shake, but a relieved smile stretched across his entire face. "We should be boyfriends, then."

Damian's small smile, hidden at the corner of his mouth, made Jon's pulse race.

_Maybe being vulnerable does have benefits_, Damian thought to himself as he saw Jon's open smile.

* * *

Jon Kent was a young man of many responsibilities. He went to school, worked on his family's farm, went to thrilling missions with his partner, and maintained a healthy relationship with his new boyfriend. Some would describe Jon as one of the kindest young men they'd met. Some would describe him as a one-of-a-kind trouble child, but that was okay. Jon knew he was something more than that.

He sent out a good morning text to Damian, a proud smile on his expression. He was quick to get ready for school, walking downstairs to see his parents making breakfast.

Both greeted him, Lois putting down her coffee and newspaper while Clark began taking the cooked food to the dining table. Jon thanked him with a smile, and they all talked as they enjoyed their breakfasts.

It was so familiar and homey that Jon couldn't feel sad when he left alone later that morning. Just gratefulness.

He had felt that same way when Damian had texted him good morning back—as though he could feel the sun coming up that morning, it's rays penetrating his heart.

———

A/N: Did everyone like it? I truly hope the ending was as satisfying as I tried to make it. Thank you for reading and all love!!!


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